Symmetry
He sits in the shadow
of a light he's been
begging for strength
to consume;
Choking on bipolar
truths of his soul's aperture,
wondering if there is a key
to unlock its requiem,
or if he'll be forever
cast. Forced between the
breaths of both worlds;
Omitted from the presence of
any luster, or spiritless flame.
A man with eyes that seek,
and a tongue bent over
nervous teeth, that beg
to be cleansed of sin's rot.
To be this,
here:
In a world of decadent destruction.
He feels he cannot, does not deserve
the righteous clarity of purity's omniscience.
It shines, through
and stifles the purge.
His essence contracts,
pools together in a
singularity,
and he feels the flash
as he becomes,
for a moment,
symmetry.
Life/Death
Perfection/Destruction
Human/Corpse
Angel/Demon
Power/Void
Darkness..
And he sleeps, for what he thought
would be forever,
and yet wakes in the arms of life
with eyes that still seek,
and a tongue no longer
bent over hungry teeth;
but willing to speak.
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved
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